


In the dusk of our minds

by Dinendal2002



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Starker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28458234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinendal2002/pseuds/Dinendal2002
Summary: Peter rolled his desk chair back. Pressing his lips, eyes narrow. His room was dark, the computer screens a single source of illumination. The curtains were drawn, every surface spotless. He realised his room didn’t resemble the average young adult’s place, but he needed the emptiness to concentrate. He couldn’t afford any distractions. And London was a big distraction.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Starker - Relationship
Kudos: 9
Collections: Starker Festivals Holiday Exchange 2020





	In the dusk of our minds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nobetterlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/gifts).



> This story is a gift for the lovely Bobbie (nobetterlove) at The Starkerfestivals Holiday Exchange.
> 
> It started out as your average Mastermind!Peter story, but it grew and grew and all these plot ideas came up and it turned into a monster of a story. This chapter is but the beginning. I'm having so much fun writing and I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it. :)
> 
> This is a starker story, where Peter is in his twenties, but there is still a big age gap between him and Tony. Peter has no super powers yet, but Tony is Ironman.

Chapter 1 Marseille

Peter rolled his desk chair back. Pressing his lips, eyes narrow. His room was dark, the computer screens a single source of illumination. The curtains were drawn, every surface spotless. He realised his room didn’t resemble the average young adult’s place, but he needed the emptiness to concentrate. He couldn’t afford any distractions. And London was a big distraction.

On the screens an array of pictures, articles, websites and information was displayed. Red lines criss-crossed between them, linking events, places, people and stock market numbers. Peter absorbed all the information, letting it wash over him, finding links and connections other people missed.

He’d been given a scholarship to move to London, study chemistry and computer science at the Imperial College. It had been that, or California. Where he’d been given the option to study at Caltech. He’d opted for London, drawn in by the old buildings, the history and a sense of adventure. Call him prejudice, but he felt he needed a challenge away from the normality that was the US. He wanted to use his brains. He wanted to change the world, make a difference, but stay out of the lime light.

It had started a few years back. He’d stumbled across an unlocked database with information about his classmate’s grades and accomplishments. The teachers had anonymously added remarks and information whenever something happened. One of them had deliberately set the girls in his class up to fail. It had made him fume. They had no right to influence someone’s potential future based on prejudice and backhanded games. Peter had felt the need to do something about it.

He had developed a protocol to analyse the data, traced it back to the source and give him an update on what had been added to and removed from the files. He was able to trace the culprit down, fix his dirty tricks and rectify the files for the girls without anyone being any the wiser. Then, he had traced the man down to his apartment, scared the living hell out of him and watched him wet himself with fright. He had called up the monster inside him.

The adrenaline and power rush that followed had Peter hooked. He wanted more. He wanted to do right by people, and punish the ones that deserved it. He wanted to watch their eyes blow wide as they shuddered with fear. He wanted them dead.

His first victim had been the professor. An easy victim, an old bitter lonely man that no one had missed outside of college, until the holidays had been over and he was supposed to come back to teach. He had belted the man to his ceiling, making it look like suicide after a night of too much drinking.

His other victims had been trickier. The evidence hard to hide in some cases. He’d make sure they would lean toward accidents, suicides or mere unfortunate bad luck. He wouldn’t leave marks. There were no clues. There were no noticeable reasons for them to die, other than the inhumane choices the individuals had made in the past. A man kicking a homeless person, a lady shouting and screaming at her children whenever she was drunk, the drug dealers from around the corner. He had started small, but after a few years his eyes had strayed toward the news. The world was filled with people being treated wrong. From a neighbourhood vigilante, he had become something akin a mastermind. Leave no trace, never linger. He’d become a cold case killer and he loved the thrill of the chase.

He didn’t consider himself a murderer. He was a protector, he made sure that whatever was happening, wouldn’t happen again. Taking out the bad in the world because the person had filled their life with the mistreatment of others. It gave him a surge of power to even out their wrong deeds. He knew he was playing god, drawing up the monster deep inside of him, but he didn’t care. He was smart. God, he was smart, and he intended to use that cleverness.

That’s when he spotted it. James Walch. Financial manager at SlimTech Nano Works, a data chip producer linked to the university of Berlin. There had been interesting transactions between a daughter company of theirs and a small chem lab in the south of France, hidden by using multiple Swiss bank accounts. Even a Cyprus one. None of it deterred Peter. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he analysed the data derived from several company servers. He knew every backdoor, every connection, every way to get in (and out) unnoticed.

This time Peter had deep ingrained hatred for the person who was responsible. This wasn’t some backstreet small-town case anymore. This was personal. This was Peter at his best and worst.

He had seen his friends turn from well rounded, clever, stable individuals to addicts and junkies. Living for their next high. Wanting nothing more than to feel that short lived, thirty second kick before coming down again in the three minutes that followed. It had seemed so innocent, a party trick even. Nitrous oxide, laughing gas was available online; it was cheap, unchecked and readily available in practically every store. Getting it delivered straight home and paid through any Paypal account or credit card. It was ruining his friends lives.

But why? Why would a chip producer, who specialised in nano technology, provide money to a company that made small containers of nitrous oxide for the baking industry? It didn’t make sense. He would have to delve deeper. The question was, would he need to go to Berlin, or was his best bet the south of France after all?

…

Tony swiped the holo-screen away and sighed. He’d been looking at the data for hours now and it didn’t make sense. There was a leak in his systems and he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. He’d ran every algorithm he could think of and had queried the life out of his financial databases. They all added up. And yet…

“Coffee?” Pepper quipped and handed him the cup without waiting for his answer.

“You know that feeling when everything is just too organised? Too in line?” His hands behind his head, he spun his chair in lazy circles. “I can’t find it Pep, and it’s driving me up the wall.”

“I have faith in you Tony. Let it go. You’ve ran it by every department already and no one sees what you see.” She ran her fingers along his desk, poised. So very much like Pepper.

“It’s like it’s right in front of me.” He reached out, grabbing at thin air.

“Go home, you can look at it again tomorrow.”

He watched her leave his office, mulling over her words. Tomorrow.

…

Peter was on a plane to Marseille, the south of France. His legs stretched out in front of him taking advantage of traveling first class. The plane was half empty, the humming of the engines the perfect white noise he needed to focus on the data his laptop was churning out for him. He had set up a gps-coupled satellite connection allowing him to access his computers at home from any position on earth. It was only too easy.

He had analysed all options. Getting into the SlimTech computer systems had proven challenging from his London apartment but not impossible. Getting the information he needed had proven a little more difficult and thus he’d rigged the system and was on his way to pay them a visit. It was going to be perfect.

A notification blinked on his laptop screen. Good. Data was complete then. His eyes scanned the files until he found what he was looking for, his new temporary persona. Jason, 26 years old from Kent area, in Marseille for an internship. He’d be upgrading the computer servers and installing some new hubs. Incredibly boring and tedious work, but it would give him full access to the entire IT infrastructure in order to run tests and check data connections. He loved this bit of his work.

You see, data never lies. Anything that is stored within a company’s networks, even the most random little things, form an implicit picture of what’s happening. A certain user opening a door with their badge, camera’s picking someone up wandering through a hallway, those were all digital finger prints. And hadn’t he just become a master at manipulating those? Oh yes.

He’d drawn up Jason, forged his school records, his grades, his intern application forms and his start date at the company. He even went as far as injecting their system with e-mail conversations, messenger chats, lunch break footage (rendered from other employees’ footage). Enough to make him seem the quiet, lonely intern. Enough to make him seem insignificant.

He dug a name tag (Jason, IT intern) out of his backpack and pinned it to his chest, giving the flight attendant a bright smile. “My first day tomorrow,” he grinned as she smiled back.

…

Tony rested his head back against the headboard. It just wasn’t right. Pepper had told him to let it go, Rhodey said it was just another way of his mind being bored and Steve had simply smiled and said he needed more sleep.

Ok, fair enough, all of them had a point. And that was exactly why he couldn’t let it go. He rolled over, getting comfortable under the duvet.

“Sir, might I suggest you talk to Agent Coulson.”

“Jarvis, let Pepper deal with him, please... The man makes me feel like I’m wearing a wet sock. Irritatingly uncomfortable and in need of replacement.”

“My analysis tells me he might be more in line with your thoughts than you might think. I can ring him for you, if you like.”

“I don’t like. And since when do you cross reference my thought patterns with Shield agents?”

“Since you talk to yourself out loud quite often, Sir.” Jarvis sounded far too smug.

“I’m not talking to Coulson. Call Pepper instead.”

The dialing tone rang to the point where Tony thought of hanging up again. Then suddenly Pep’s face popped into view. Her hair a mess, she looked tired. What time was it again?

“Don’t tell me you’ve ran out of Poptarts and want me to order you more.” She didn’t look amused.

“Pep, remind me when Coulson and you had lunch last?”

She blinked. Shook her head and then frowned. “Tony, I’m hanging up on you. My dates with Coulson are none of your business. Go play petulant child somewhere else.”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m onto something Pep! I know it.” He didn’t. He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up more.

“It’s 3 am,” she spoke carefully, “I’m tired and tomorrow I’ll be flying to Hawaii for some well-earned rest.”

He might have pouted slightly. She might have just forgiven him.

“You’re the first one I’ll call when I’m lounging on the beach with my first cocktail. Go to sleep Tony.. I promise it can wait.”

“I might have to go on a lunch date with him myself then.” He scrunched up his nose. Wet sock. The laugh that bubbled out of her was worth it.

“Let me know how it goes. Goodnight Tony.” She hung up.

…

Peter stood in front of the office building by the factory. The French sun was beating down on him, his flight had gone smooth and the taxi he had booked had taken him directly to the building he was facing now. Quarter to nine, show time. Around him, men and women in tailored suits entered the building. A guard at the door, keeping an eye on their badges.

Taking the badge from his pocket, he sauntered over to the entrance. This was it. His backpack slung over his right shoulder, his heart beating loudly in his chest. All this time preparing, it wasn’t really breaking and entering if he was a registered user, was it? For all the system knew, he’d been working here for months.

Please let this work. Please. The guard looked him up and down once. He felt the man’s eyes read his name tag.

He ran the card across the scanner. The unit blinked orange at him.

Once.

Twice.

Then it blinked green and the door opened. He almost let out a sigh of relief. As relaxed as possible he entered the building. One down.

Now, where was he going again? Third floor, behind the indoor garden. Then second door to the left and up and around the server unit. Doors opened seamlessly for him. His status allowed him access to any technical room in the building. The perks of being a simple IT intern. People didn’t look to hard if you were a nobody.

The room was hot and stuffy with the buzzing of server units. Little lights blinked green and orange at him. Several units were in standby. He scanned the racks with data units. Most of it was top notch, modern state items. This stuff was clean, organised and picture perfect. Every unit was neatly labelled.

He bit his lip. Something was wrong. Something was way wrong. What was a bakery supply factory doing with a data centre that rivalled that of SlimTech itself? He checked the labels on one of the servers again and drew out his tablet. Logging into his computer system in London he booted up the layout of the server room he was in. This place was supposed to be empty. It was the next room over that was supposed to be the server room.

Dashing through the door at the end of the room he found what he was looking for. Old ragged machines, more dust and poorly routed and labelled systems. This looked more like the systems a factory would use. The layout matched the plans he had studied. The outdated machines hummed away. This made sense.

But what about the first room. What about the brand-new equipment, taunting him in the front room? Thank god for spares. He drew out two data sticks and plugged one into the main server in the back. It blinked twice then went dark, perfect. Then he dashed back into the new room and stopped.

None of these machines were registered in the data he had planned and worked with in London. This stuff wasn’t supposed to exist. And yet here he was, standing in the middle of it. What was he getting into?

That’s when he heard it.

Footsteps.

Footsteps coming from the hallway. He’d have to decide quickly. He looked around, the back door, the old room. He was safer there. In a split second he dashed through the door, leaving it ajar. Dashing in between to stands of servers he kneeled down, pulled some cables from the machine and watched the systems drop offline, then he reached into his backpack and drew out his laptop.

The footsteps came closer.

His fingers punched away on the keys, opening a network program. Loading… Loading… Come on!

The footsteps came closer still.

The screen blinked and SimTech’s login screen appeared. One of the guards came around the corner. Peter looked up at the man, eyes wide, trying to keep control of his breathing. The guard asked him a question in French and Peter felt his heart beat in his throat.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak French.”

….

“Jay..” Tony was in his workshop, tinkering with one of the gloves of his suit.

“Yes Sir,”

“What’s on my schedule tomorrow?”

Pepper’s words rang through his mind. ‘Think about it tomorrow.’ Tomorrow. There had to be something. What was happening tomorrow?

“You have a meeting with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, then a lunch with Colonel Rhodes and a presentation of SlimTech Nano Works. They are still looking for a partner to help them develop their artificial intelligence systems. The technical university of Delft-“

“Cancel that presentation.”

“But Sir, they are flying in from Berlin.”

“If they can’t solve their problems borrowing the brains of Dutch and German students, then why would I help them fix their petty attempts at AI?” He spined the spanner he was holding in his hand and made an adjustment to the glove.

“Because they attempted a level 3 breach of my security systems, Sir.”

Tony dropped the spanner.

“Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

The AI sounded almost smug. “They failed. I rerouted them and send them in circles. They gave up after the third attempt. I thought we could give them a chance to see what else they are working on.”

A small smile played on Tony’s lips. “I’ll see what they have to say. Keep me informed of any further attempts on your systems Jarvis. The backdoor is an exit only.”

“Certainly Sir.”

……………………

Peter stood up from where he had been kneeling by his laptop and brushed off his jeans. He gestured nervously to his laptop and gave the guard a weak smile. “I’m.. I’m installing a company update.” The man gave him a blank stare, his eyes darting from his face, down to his laptop and back up to his badge.

“Update?” The guard stepped closer. “Updates only on Tuesday.” He grunted. Peter swallowed. He rubbed his hands against his jeans.

“But.. It is Tuesday today..” He said carefully. The man frowned and stepped closer. Peter wanted to step back, but bravely stood by his laptop. Again the guard came closer still, reached out and grabbed Peter’s name tag.

“Jason.”

Peter nodded.

The guard laughed out loud then, like he’d just told the world’s best joke and turned away. “Yes, Tuesday.” A thick French accent in his voice. “Your face!” Then he was off, leaving Peter with his heart thumping in his chest.

Nothing could spoil an easy plan like the randomness people could. He’d have to keep that in mind next time. He finished installing his pseudo on the network, and dashed through the new server room one last time, plugging in his remote access device before walking out of the building unnoticed. Tonight, he would erase himself from the video footage and door access systems. He wouldn’t leave a digital fingerprint behind. He would turn ‘Jason’ into the simple boring intern he was supposed to be.

A small smile played on his lips as he made his way out of the building feeling the sun warm his face. While the man had caught him off guard, he had played his ‘innocent intern’ part flawlessly, sweaty palms and nervous voice and everything. He would deprive SlimTech of all it’s secrets before he’d make sure they’d never harm his friends again.


End file.
